


Under the flowers away through the hours

by Dylanobrienisbatman



Series: The 100 wlw [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Student Clarke, Artist Clarke Griffin, Boxer Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa Woods - Freeform, Clarke draws Lexa, Clexa, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, First Kiss, POV Clarke Griffin, clexa romance, lgbt fix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanobrienisbatman/pseuds/Dylanobrienisbatman
Summary: When Clarke goes hiking to get some photos for her art class, she almost immediately regrets it. Ends up being a good thing though, because she gets a lot more than a few good photos out of the trip.





	Under the flowers away through the hours

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [HedaAlicia](http://hedaalicia.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, based on a story she told about herself the other day!

Clarke was about halfway up the stupid mountain, a 45-minute climb by the end, when she started regretting her decision. It was warmer than she had expected, the sun baking her shoulders and her head through the baseball cap she was wearing, the dust from the trail getting in her eyes. All for some photos. She had an assignment for her painting class to recreate a photograph, and she decided instead of something simple, she would hike a damn mountain. She yanked down the sports bra under her t-shirt that was bunching up, hauling her pack higher on her back, and kept trudging on. When she reached the top, she knelt down to put together her camera, and started scanning the horizon to find the best shot. A few large leafy trees with flowers were too her left, and a big boulder fixture covered in moss and small plants a bit more to the right. She snapped a few shots of each, and a few of the horizon in total, and then she heard someone yelling, paired with the sound of routine punching. She turned around and was met with… a sight.

Now this was something she could see herself painting.

A woman, probably around her age, with dark hair pulled into many small braids and dressed in a strappy black sports bra, black leggings, and black boxing shoes, her hands wrapped in maroon hand wraps, boxing with a large burly bald man with tribal tattoos on his skull. She was shiny, a sweaty sheen covering all of her exposed skin, golden tan and clearly covering toned muscles from head to toe. She was throwing punches fast, clearly following some pre-choreographed routine, grunt and yelling with each throw, gritting her teeth over the mouth guard she wore, and Clarke was mesmerised.

“Watch your feet Lexa, come on!” The man said, holding the pads in front of his face. “Keep on your toes, make sure you keep a bounce going!”

The girl, Lexa, stopped, leaning over, heaving breaths and holding onto her knees. She stood, pulling her mouth guard out.

“Look Lincoln, we’ve been going for like two hours. I’m exhausted! Not to mention you made me hike all the way up here first!” Her words were coming through in pants, and she took a long swig of water, pouring a little on her head to cool herself. Clarke made a concerted effort to close her mouth, because her jaw was definitely hanging open.

“Just a little longer Lex, come on!” She groaned and went to put the mouth guard back in, stepping back into form. Her shoulders were heavy, and she barely kept any energy in her step, and Clarke wasn’t really sure what came over her, but she started… yelling, cheering on this stranger.

“Oh, come on, you’re killing it!! You can totally kick his ass for a little longer!” The girl turned, wide eyed, searching for the source of the voice. Clarke hadn’t gotten a good look at Lexa’s face yet, but when she turned around Clarke’s mouth went dry. High cheekbones, dark eyes, perfect pouty lips, and a strong jaw turned to face her, stunning on every account. Clarke was suddenly aware that she her cheeks were probably very red, and her leggings didn’t match her tank top.

“See Lexa, even she thinks you should keep going!” Lincoln looked positively thrilled. Lexa’s eyes hadn’t left her face since they made eye contact, and Clarke’s skin was warm from something other than the sun. She nodded at Lincoln, never taking her eyes off of Clarke.

“Alright,” Lexa smiled, keeping eye contact with Clarke the whole time, “15 more minutes, and then I’m going home, even if I have to punch through you to do it.” She quirked an eyebrow at Clarke.

Clarke started cheering again, urging her on, causing Lexa to giggle while she put her mouth guard back in, shaking her head just a little, and getting back in. Clarke turned, snapping a few shots of the horizon, zooming in on a stream some ways down the valley, a few floral patches on the edges of the cliff, but nothing she saw caught her view quite like Lexa. Right as her thought strayed there, Lincoln called out to her.

“Hey photo girl!” He called.

“It’s Clarke,” she responded, “what’s up?”

“Clarke, hi. Nice to meet you. Could you get some shots of Lexa training? We’ve been looking for some good photos for the website for my gym and these would be perfect!”

“Uhh… yeah sure. I can try, I’m not the best photographer, I’m getting these for my art class, to paint them later, but sure.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.” Lexa pipped up, dropping her water bottle back down by her bag. She nodded, and Lexa slipped back into step, throwing punches at Lincoln.

Clarke got them in her frame and snapped away as they sparred. Lincoln kept tossing out different movies to get her to throw, and the moves got more and more impressive as they went. Watching her spar was mesmerising. Her braids spun around her head almost in slow motion, the gritting of her teeth and clench of her fist gripping, the way her muscles moved under her skin fascinating. The camera loved her, and she had Clarke captivated. She snapped until Lincoln called them off and walked over to show them the photos.

Lincoln was pleased with the photos, pointing to his favourites as they thumbed through, and gave Clarke his email to get them later. She was just about to ask Lexa for a phone number or something, because she couldn’t walk away without ever knowing if she’d see her again, but Lexa was checking her watch, and rushing to pack her bag, and she waved to Clarke as she took off towards the trail, saying something about being late to work. She smiled at Lincoln, promising to send the photos, and Lincoln left, leaving Clarke to take photos of the setting sun, underwhelmed by the sight of it after watching Lexa.

She got home and sent the photos to Lincoln, who was ever grateful, and even offered compensation if she needed it. She declined, assuring him that credit for the photos on the website was enough, and that was, she assumed, the end of that.

In the next few days, she found herself unable to paint the flowers and trees and rock formations, because all she could picture in her mind’s eye was tan skin and red hand wraps and dark braids. She emailed Lincoln again, asking his permission to paint them, because the work might end up at a university art show. He agreed, with vigour, asking about the show and to be kept posted with her work on it, so she painted them. Humans in motion were always her favourite thing to paint, and Lexa was obviously no exception. The work took her almost two weeks, to get the way the braids spun just right, to get the right colour for the wraps on her hands, and the shape of her legs, bent slightly and balanced on the balls of her feet. She was remarkable, and Clarke wanted to do her justice in every way.

All the work she did on the painting and yet turning it into her professor still felt like a personal experience. She didn’t know anything about this girl, and yet she still felt connected to her, and sharing her with a whole class felt big, which was too much for her to think about. The painting was well received, her teacher even told her it was the best work she had done since she started her degree, that she could ‘feel the passion’ for the work and subject. She was given a central spot at the show, and she sent Lincoln an announcement for the show, because he had asked for updates, and also because a small part of her hoped, just maybe, Lexa would show up.

The day of the show her nerves are on high alert, and she’d like to lie and say it wasn’t because she wasn’t hoping Lexa would show up, but she didn’t. Instead, she spent almost an hour picking out her outfit, fidgeting with her hair, and wiping and reapplying her lipstick at least twice, trying to find the right colour. She wasn’t usually nervous, especially when the wasn’t even sure she had anything to be nervous about, but here she was. She caught the subway to the show, and once she got there the rush of the show, the busy-ness and the networking of it all helped get her mind of the idea that Lexa might show up. Her piece was doing well, the art critics and buyers who came to the show had a lot of questions for her, and a few people asked for a card to call about commissioning work from her, which was always the goal of the show for the students who got a place on the wall.

She was so busy and distracted by the audience of the show, that she didn’t even see Lexa come in.

She was finishing up with a man offering to purchase the work, and he stepped away, clearing her line of sight to Lexa, standing across the room. She hadn’t noticed Clarke noticing her yet, so Clarke had a chance to take her in, and to prepare herself. She was wearing a black strappy dress, low cut, with a gold body chain down her chest, her hair loose and wavy down around her shoulders, and even more stunning than Clarke remembered. That dry mouth feeling hit her again, and she snatched a glass of red wine off the waiter passing by and took a long drink, catching Lexa’s eye over the rim of the glass. She smiled and wandered over, graceful and light on her feet. Everything she did was enchanting. Clarke felt like a fucking romantic comedy was going on in her head, and she’d be embarrassed of herself if she could find a spare brain cell to give a shit.

“Clarke, right?” Lexa seemed almost nervous, which was so fucking endearing. “Lincoln told me about the show, I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s great!” Clarke chirped, her voice cracking like a teenage boy. She cleared her throat, and smiled, taking another sip of the wine to calm her jitters, “Yeah, I’m Clarke. You’re Lexa?” She asked, like it wasn’t the only name she’d been thinking about for almost 2 weeks. To her credit, Lexa smiled and nodded, even though she was standing next to an intricately hand painted portrait of herself. Clarke added kind to the list of qualities she could attribute to her.

“This piece is…” The pause made Clarke nervous, “Is it conceited if I say its lovely, when it’s a painting of myself?” Clarke grabbed another glass of wine from a waiter and handed it over to her.

“No, not conceited. But I might be the wrong person to ask, since I painted it. Maybe we should get a second opinion?”

“No, I think I’d just like to talk to you, if that’s okay.” Clarke added bold to the list, smiling.

“I’d like that too.”

They spent the rest of the show standing next to the painting, trading stories back and forth, trying to get to know each other in this loud, dimly lit room, surrounded by Clarke’s course mates and teachers. It wasn’t ideal, but Lexa stayed through the whole show, answering questions from attendees at the show once they realised she was the subject, looking the appropriate mix of humbled and endeared by the attention. The last of the people funnelled out, Clarke handed over the painting to the highest bidder, almost sad to see it go, and went to the back to get her things, almost expecting Lexa to be gone when she came back out, only to find her in her coat by the door, thumbing through her phone, waiting for Clarke. She stepped up next to her, met with a blinding smile.

“I thought you might have left.” Lexa’s smile didn’t fade.

“I was just waiting here for you,” She started fidgeting with her hands, long fingers twisting rings on her right hand, “I thought maybe you’d like to get a drink or… something.” Her smile lowered just a little, replaced with a somewhat nervous look, glancing down at her feet a few times.

“I was hoping you’d ask, actually.” She held out her hand, and Lexa laced their fingers together. They were halfway to the bar, a few blocks away, when Clarke got struck with a wave of bravery and decided to ride it out. She stopped walking, and tugged Lexa towards her, gently backing her towards the wall. Lexa followed her lead with no resistance, her large green eyes wide, and her perfect pout open just so, in some combination of shock and something a little more lustful. Her back made contact with the wall, and she blew out whatever air had been in her lungs. Clarke laced their other hands together, lifting them above Lexa's head on the brick, leaning in just so, enough to make her intentions clear, but leaving Lexa some time to stop her. Instead, Lexa leaned forward and nipped at her bottom lip, just a little, and when she settled back against the wall Clarke could see her lips trembling. Clarke took it as an invitation, and kissed her. Gentle had never been Clarke's forté, and she hadn't really intended to start now. She kept Lexa pressed up against the wall, biting at her lips, letting go of one hand to thread it into her long hair, feeling a hand come to her waist, tugging her in a little until the hard planes of Lexa's body were up against her curves. Lexa unlaced their other hands, and found Clarke's cheek, pushing her back just a little, slowing them down, trembling lips and soft hands touching her in a way that was soft, sweet, and gentle. They both got lost in it, pressed up against the wall of some random building halfway down a city block, and they probably would have stayed that way, until an ambulance drove by, full speed with its sirens blaring, startling them apart. They stood for a second, taking in their situation, until Lexa started laughing, and they dissolved into giggles on the street, and Clarke was quick to follow. They stood their for a while, laughing, still all wrapped up in each other against the wall, until another car driving by broke them out of their spell. 

"How about we -" Clarke paused, because kissing someone on the street was one thing, but they barely knew each other, and this...

"Skip the drink? I live just a few blocks away." Lexa cut in, maybe sensing her uncertainty.

"If we do this, you're not gonna make me learn to box are you?" Clarke joked, trying to lighten the suddenly very serious mood.

Lexa giggled, shaking her head, tugging Clarke's hand, tilting her head in a question. Clarke nodded, wordless, and Lexa led her around the corner and down the street to her apartment. She followed behind Lexa up the stairs, into her apartment, and into her bedroom, chasing her lips down onto the bed. 

Clarke woke up the next morning before Lexa, sleeping peacefully on her stomach, giving Clarke a chance to really look at her in daylight. Her skin was soft and even, a beautiful floral tattoo crawling up her spine and across her shoulder blades, her long thick hair fanned out across the pillow, smelling like pine and something floral, intoxicating and wrapping around everything from her hair to the blankets. She was beautiful. She reached her hand out, absentmindedly tracing the flowers near the base of her neck, causing Lexa to stir. She shifted, turning over murmuring a soft good morning, leaning in to kiss Clarke gently under her jaw before slipping out of bed, grabbing a pink floral robe from her door, tossing a white one to Clarke on the bed, and heading into the kitchen. Clarke smiled, watching her go, warm sunshine flooding the apartment, the pink against Lexa's skin bright, the sound of the kettle filling coming from the kitchen, and she felt like maybe, this was just where she was supposed to be. If a hike like that was going to bring her this much good, maybe she would hike more often, she thought. Lexa called out to her, asking what kind of tea she wanted, and if she wanted anything to eat, and she firmly decided that she got to keep Lexa, she might not ever need anything more. 


End file.
